Tender wedding vows for a spouse at a backyard ceremony

I remember stringing those lights across the yard with you, both of us up on wobbly chairs, laughing because neither of us knew how to tie a proper knot. That's us, I think — figuring it out together, badly at first, but together.

I promise to keep stringing lights for you, even on the nights the dark feels like too much. I'll climb the wobbly chair. I'll hold the ladder. I'll be the one who stays even when my hands shake.

You make this ordinary ground feel like something holy. This grass, these fences, the neighbor's dog barking in the distance — it's all ours now, because you're standing in it with me.

I vow to choose this yard, this home, this life with you again every morning, not because it's easy, but because it's you.

Whatever weather comes, I'll be the one holding the other end of the string.

I remember that night too — you on the chair, me steadying it, both of us certain we'd ruin the whole string of lights before dinner. We didn't. We never have, not really.

I promise to steady the chair when you're the one climbing. To hand you what you need before you ask. To trust that your hands, even shaking, are hands I want to hold forever.

This yard has seen us mess up and figure it out a hundred small ways, and I love it for that. I love you for that — for staying soft in a world that asks us to harden.

I vow to build a home with you, right here in the ordinary, where the lights don't need to be perfect to be beautiful.

Whatever weather comes, I'll hold the other end of the string too, so neither of us is ever holding it alone.